


breaking (again)

by honeyseong



Category: Falsettos - Lapine/Finn
Genre: Angst, Gen, Hopeful Ending, Implied/Referenced Character Death, Implied/Referenced Self-Harm, Mental Health Issues, angst with attempted comfort, jason and mendel are autistic, sorry its depressing
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-06-14
Updated: 2018-06-14
Packaged: 2019-05-23 06:43:36
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 894
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14929190
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/honeyseong/pseuds/honeyseong
Summary: Jason is tired.





	breaking (again)

**Author's Note:**

> hello if you wanted fluff please don't read this

Jason is tired, so he carves pretty patterns on his wrists.

_'There's no point,'_ Jason thinks. _'In trying at all anymore.'_

He lies on his bed, arm swinging off the side (waiting for a monster to take the bait) as he closes his laptop and simultaneously closes his weary eyes. His world is now quiet and dark, just as how he wishes it would always be. A silent world where he exists as _absolutely nothing_ and no one cares (but in this world, people do care for some unexplained reason). Jason wishes he never existed, because then he would be embraced by nothingness rather than suffocated by everything. The world is too loud for him.

Although he loves Mendel, and although he loves how much he tries, he's not a very good psychiatrist. He's had countless sessions with him (not to mention the fact that they live together), yet the weight of his mere existence is becoming heavier and heavier each day. Jason talks to Mendel— well, at least he tries to express himself in his own amalgamation of words that only Mendel would understand— but he doesn't feel as if anyone is listening to him because he never hears a response.

He looks on this memory later on and realises that maybe _he_ was the one who wasn't listening, and maybe Mendel was talking to him and comforting him and doing all the right things but he was so ignorant and rude and miserable and he doesn't deserve any of this.

In school he can barely focus. Looking up from the floor in the bustling hallways gives him a headache, so while he's daydreaming and walking freakishly into the next classroom he's shoved into lockers without even noticing and is sent to detention. But the times that he _does_ make it into class, he can barely hear anything over the sound of a deafening ringing that apparently only he can hear, so looking up at a whiteboard for a whole hour and actually comprehending anything is a pipe dream. Letters are sent home time and time again, and they pile up on his desk as a reminder of how horrible he is and how he doesn't deserve to go to school. He doesn't deserve _anything_.

Trina looks at him so pitifully that he can only frown and cry in response (what a horrible child I am, he thinks) while she explains to his teachers over the phone that he's probably just stressed after Whizzer's death— which is partially true— but that excuse is wearing out. It's been three and a half years, so surely he'd moved on already. Truth be told, it's much, much, more than Whizzer (or the absence of him).

He's too tired to say anything; too tired to get up from bed. Too tired to realise that there are thick scars littering his arms like the straight rows of lined paper (the school mocks him again) and that he's in a hospital wearing an ugly gown similar to the one Whizzer wore years ago. He notices a tube sticking out of the crook of his elbow and wonders why they decided to colour the tube in a putrid shade of red, but he's much too tired to realise that the tube is clear and that blood is flowing through it.

Jason goes back to school a week later and no one asks him what happened because _no one cares_. He's not like popular diva Heather Levin who has people offering up their own blood to fix her small little paper-cut. He's not like queen bee Ellie Mazie Rosenthal who has a whole herd of mindless followers fawning over her and checking up on her every other minute. He's just Jason. Small, pathetic Jason who could just _die_ and no one would care.

When Trina comes into his room to tell him that school has been cancelled for tomorrow because of the incoming storm, she stops by the doorframe and slaps a hand over her face. Jason is laying there so peacefully, so serenely that it seems fake. His face is wet and stained with tears but his skin is clean and his sleeves are bravely pulled up to reveal white bandages and no inch of tainting red. Trina wants to lay down next to him and hold him close to her because it's so _hard_ to connect with him these days and she's afraid that she's slowly losing him, but this one night shows her that there's still hope. Things can be alright again.

Things _will_ be alright again. Trina repeats this like a mantra.

It's barely ten-o-clock (Jason never sleeps) and Jason's curled up into a ball on the side of the thin mattress. The air-conditioner is on and pillows are arranged neatly beside him like a wall shielding him from the world, so Trina— _mom_ — slowly creeps across the floor and drapes a white blanket over his figure and whispers three words that Jason usually hates hearing.

_'I love you.'_

It doesn't matter that Marvin is a mess: living and loving all alone. It doesn't matter that Whizzer is going to slowly fade from their memories whether they like it or not. It doesn't matter that they're all getting older and weaker as each second passes. For now, things are alright.

And Jason is tired, so he sleeps.

**Author's Note:**

> there is hope
> 
> also why do i keep writing jason angst oof
> 
> i wrote this like an hour ago because i was emo and now i just feel drained lol


End file.
